Comfort me with apples
This weekend, Oxford Town Hall is packed out with Olympic standard beer bellies, all doing their best to get their way through 120 real ales and 18 ciders and perrys at the Annual Oxford Beer Festival. Mr. Butshesagirl and I went along last night to sample some of the nectar on offer. Well, it’s only polite. We decided to start with cider (I spent my formative years in Bristol, and unlike many of my friends, didn’t develop a learned aversion to cider from over-indulgence) - mixing beer and cider is a bit of a bad idea.
